Respite 8.5

2005, July 9: Nameless Village, Babylon

The farm boy was named Joseph. He liked hunting with his da' and wished there wasn't so much to harvest so he'd have more time to play with his brothers. He also asked a lot of questions.

"What are the witch-lords like? What do they do with all the stone-wood they make us harvest? How many are there? Do you know any magic? Can you show me?" he babbled on.

I hadn't expected this. Weren't medieval societies supposed to be afraid of magic? Or had the Slug wiped that paranoia out of them? I'd expected a hefty dose of awe and fear, not this kind of childish curiosity.

"Slow down, Joseph," I said. "The witch-lords are creators. They make things, like my eyes. When I lost my eyes, one of them crafted these for me."

"Oh! You must have met the Great Turtle!"

"The… Great… Turtle…?"

"Yes! The leader of the witch-lords who live there is the avatar of the god of creation. The elder says so. The Great Turtle is the earth. We live on his giant shell and it's through his benevolence that we have such bountiful harvests."

I had no idea what to say to that. Fortuna said she had no direct hand in their budding worship, but I wondered if that was true. It sounded like they'd somehow blended up World Turtle myths, common in Hindu, Chinese, and even Native American cultures, with the domains that I was purportedly responsible for.

Joseph held out a turtle shell talisman made of wood and looked at it with wondrous awe. It was so sincere, so earnest, that I felt awkward just walking next to the kid.

"Right… We call him Hyunmu," I said weakly.

"Lord Hyunmu… Wow…"

We eventually arrived at the biggest building in the village. It was three stories tall, with the first floor being a big meeting hall meant for town halls. According to Joseph, the village elder lived upstairs.

I hoped the elder would be a bit less… worshipful… of my alter ego, but considering the rubbish the town had filled this poor boy's head with, I wasn't optimistic.

X

The village "elder," Conrad apparently, was a man I'd consider to be middle-aged. He was about as generic a "medieval peasant" as I could think of, as rude as that might be to say. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and freckles that made him look like he could pass for Amy's uncle. He was also in his late twenties, maybe early thirties.

That threw me for a loop. An elder should be old and gray, right?

And then I remembered: This was an artificial village, founded by Cauldron for the purpose of cheap, efficient human labor, not a settlement that grew organically. The whole village was five years old and it wasn't like Fortuna and Eva picked up the old or infirm to offer new lives to. There were some children and teens, but the vast majority were young adults in the prime of their lives.

When Conrad learned that I was the "messenger of the witch-lords," he quickly dismissed Joseph and ushered me inside. He took me past the meeting hall and into his living quarters, where he lived with his wife and children.

"Thank you for your hospitality, elder," I said as I took a seat across from him. He placed a wooden mug filled with barley tea in front of me.

"We should be the one telling you that, lad," Conrad said. "The witch-lords have been good to us. They gave us a home when we had none and provided us with a life we could have never dreamed of."

I was skeptical. From his perspective, I was effectively the boss' secretary, come down for a "surprise inspection." Of course he'd sing my praises. And if he found out I was one of those "witch-lords" in question?

No, I clearly had to get him talking more, maybe even get a proper tour of the town.

"They're good people," I said softly. "Tell me, elder, does this village have a name? We've been calling it 'Babylon,' but it strikes me that we should ask you residents what you call this place."

"This village? Ah, we've been calling it Lordsmith, after the Great Turtle. I pray he would not mind, but it felt appropriate."

"I'm sure he would allow it. Hyunmu, that is his name, is not easily offended."

"Have you met him before? The Great Turtle? Lord Hyunmu?" he asked, eyes sparkling just as Joseph's had.

I leaned back a bit to put some distance between me and my… adoring fan… "I have. I suppose you could say I'm an apprentice of sorts. Please, call me Andy. I was sent to take stock of this village."

"I see. How can I assist you?"

"To start, how many live here?"

"About a thousand, perhaps a hundred more."

"And of these, how many are able-bodied and productive?"

"Near all of us, lad. As you can see, I'm the elder, and I'm not a graybeard yet."

I nodded and continued to ask my questions. Though it was a village established for my sake, interacting with Joseph and Conrad drove home just how little I knew about this place. Sure, I received the occasional status update, but it didn't exactly cover much beyond "The petricite quota was met." I wanted to know more about how these people lived, not whether they were paying their taxes on time.

As we talked, he told me a little more about the lifestyle that most villagers led. They were, as expected, lumberjacks and farmers. They cut down petricite trees using "enchanted tools" provided by Cauldron (mostly stuff from Home Depot) and dropped off the wood at predesignated locations. There, "enchanted golems" (i.e. my Wrenchbots) took over, weighing the wood against the monthly quota before carting it to the lab.

"The quota isn't too much, is it?" I asked, gesturing outside to the fields. "You seem to be farming alright."

"Oh, no, the taxes are fine. Downright lenient compared to the lord I served before. Our lords are generous with us," Conrad said. "The witch-lords aren't taking our harvest at all, not one stalk of wheat or bushel of apples, and we know there aren't any other villages. The Great Turtle probably provides for them as he does for this village."

"I see… And what about the forest at large? I'm aware that there are several magical plants within the Garden of Babylon. Some of them are dangerous to humans."

"Aye, they are. Jim's horse ate one of them puffcaps and nearly choked to death. Then one of the forest wardens gave it some kind of medicine that fixed it right up. We get asked to harvest them in small amounts, but the witch-lords gave us enchanted clothing to protect us so it's no trouble." He got up and dug around in his closet for a moment before coming away with the "enchanted clothing." I coughed loudly, trying to clear the tea that went down the wrong pipe. "Is something wrong, lad?"

"N-No, sorry, Elder Conrad," I said, choking. That was better than busting out in laughter though, which was what I probably would have done had I not been hacking up my lungs. I hadn't noticed it was there at all. Conrad had pulled out a beekeeper's uniform, giant not-astronaut helmet and all.

Fortuna had to be fucking with me. This couldn't possibly be the most efficient solution to harvesting dangerous plants.

Or maybe it was. The more I thought about it, so long as the tough, exterior fabric was treated with a spray-on plastic polymer to close air gaps, it was probably quite effective actually, especially if paired with a painter's gas mask I could see in the corner of his closet. Perhaps I should be glad that someone thought to provide protective wear for them, because it had definitely slipped my mind.

After all, the Garden of Babylon, named for the Hanging Gardens, had been seeded with more than just petricite trees and Freljordian wheat. There were also Veraza azaleas, puffcap mushrooms, dream blossoms, and more. Some were largely harmless, merely time consuming to harvest, like the azaleas, while others, like the puffcaps, could potentially be fatal. Dream blossoms wouldn't kill a man, but losing the day to sleep, getting permanently lost in the fog, or even waking up without all your memories were distinct possibilities.

The Garden was really shaping up to be an enchanted forest, and given I planned to teach Riley some of the horticulture methods favored in Zaun, I had a feeling it'd only get more dangerous.

"Are you happy?" I asked finally. I wasn't really a city planner or administrator, those were concerns better left to the Number Man. But at the end of the day, this was what all other questions boiled down to, right? These three words?

Were they happy? Could they see themselves living fulfilling lives with what they'd been given? And if not, how could I provide for them more efficiently?

Perhaps some of my sincerity carried through my expression because Conrad took a while to answer. He brought his mug of barley tea to his lips as he considered what he should say.

"We are, lad. We have good food to eat, are protected from the forest by the Forest Guardian, and we have friendly relations with the fae folk."

"Fae folk?"

"Their lord, Peter Pan, sends an envoy to trade with us. Our grain for some of their fruits and masterwork tools. I'd never seen workmanship like these in my life, lad, not one that wasn't made by divine hands anyway," he gushed, pulling out a switchblade. It was pretty normal, a thick, sturdy hunting knife that would suit any woodsman. The handle of the blade was adorned with a hydro-printed pattern depicting a wolf howling at the moon. "The steel is perfect but the design is truly incredible."

"Ah, I see. We call that place Neverland. I plan to visit it after taking a tour of Lordsmith," I told him.

"Truly? So the witch-lords are overlords of the fae as well…"

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"Umm… You could say that…" I had nothing to do with Rinke, but surely if anyone deserved to be called a witch, it was Fortuna, right? RIght. She had him by the balls anyway. "Say, do you mind if I took a look around the village?"

"N-No, of course not, Andy. Come on, I'll show you around."

He got up and led me back downstairs, to the village proper. With a population size slightly north of a thousand people, there wasn't a whole lot to see. I did however notice that there were many amenities here that would be otherwise unavailable in a normal medieval hamlet, chief among them a rudimentary school.

The cause was apparently the Freljordian grain and other cash crops Fortuna had introduced. Medieval grain crops were not genetically engineered and selectively bred for production and hardiness. They required more work and outputted less grain per acreage.

Compared to that, magic wheat bred to survive Freljord's harsh weather and other crops from the modern world must have seemed like divine providence to these people. They had more time for leisure, less taxes, and worshiped a "god" whose domain included smithing, the arts, and other aspects of human progress. Education was a natural investment in that sense.

I wasn't exactly thrilled about turtle shell ornaments hanging from doors, especially over the smithies, bakeries, and what looked like an apothecary, but left them to it. They'd apparently taken my maker's mark from the Wrenchbots and Forest Guardian and adopted it to be the Great Turtle's divine symbol, a sign of good fortune.

There was one curiosity that I couldn't readily explain however.

"What are those?" I asked Conrad, pointing up at the chimneys. The chimneys themselves were normal enough, usually made of brick and mortar, but many of them boasted little bowls filled with food. Some were even decorated to resemble bird nests.

"You have a good eye, Andy. They're, ah, how do I say… jokes?" he asked himself with a sheepish smile. "No, that's not right. They're sincere, just… Well, it started out as a tribute to the Winter Eagle."

"Anivia?" I frowned. That explained why some looked like bird nests at least. "She's… unavailable. I won't say I know her well, but I don't think she'd care one way or the other."

"Is that her name? She is the goddess of the snow and it was thought that by giving a portion of our harvest, we could appease her. Then perhaps the winter months would be warmer and shorter."

"I see. You don't have to give up a part of your harvest, you know."

"Yes, we received word from Babylon. But then, when we began to trade with the fae, all sorts of rumors began to arise. Some claimed that we could make peace offerings to the fae by allowing the smoke to waft the aroma of food."

"They're not monsters that will carry off your children if that's what you're afraid of."

"Hah, we know. It was the children who started doing it, more as a joke than anything. Then when some of the fae flew up to grab the food, well…"

"Now it's a tradition?"

"Right. They sometimes come to visit at night, seemingly at random, and leave little toys for children. It's become a game between them to see whether the kids can spot the fae before they leave."

"I see," I said. That made some sense. There had to be at least one Case-53 that could fly. It honestly made me feel relieved, to know that these people were getting along with Peter Pan's group and developing their own culture besides. "I'm sure Hyunmu will be delighted to hear it. So long as you're happy with what you're doing, I don't think he'll see a reason to intervene."

"Only…"

"Yes?"

"Have you seen the fae, lad?"

"I have," I nodded. I'd seen plenty of Case-53s. "I know some of them are intimidating, but they have orders not to harm the villagers."

"No, no, that's not it. We were wary at first, but the one called Peter Pan was friendly enough. Looked like a normal man, that one."

"Then what is it?"

"It's hard to imagine that they are all one people. They look so different from one another. The children look similar enough…"

That brought me up short. "Children? You've seen fae children?"

"Aye, they're real little, about as high as my waist. They've got big, fuzzy ears and dress funny. Have you not seen them before?"

"N-No, I've been on a different project in Hyunmu's lab. I haven't been out in a while."

This definitely required further investigation. Cauldron didn't experiment on children. Ever. It was one of my hard rules. Even in the original timeline, Cauldron's modus operandi was to give the sick and dying vials, not children. Doctor Mother and Contessa saw little utility in experimenting on children. If nothing else, children who became capes weren't easy to control or coerce with contracts and favors.

Which meant either there was a third party involved, impossible considering Babylon's location, a lot of Case-53s asked Rinke to turn them into little elf children for some reason, or Rinke was making goblins.

Clearly, he had yet to hurt anyone, but this was serious business. Could it be that when he manipulated the bodies of Case-53, he rendered them childlike to better fit in with his paternal image of himself? That didn't seem like the kind of thing someone who was mentally sound would do.

"Well this is it," Conrad said as he led me back to the center of the village. "The village is small, but we're happy here. And we know who to thank. Please send our lord our regards."

"I will. Thank you for your time, elder."

I turned to leave. I still wasn't sure how to feel about this village, but seeing them lead more or less content lives put me at ease. As I was passing beneath the wooden watchtower again, Joseph ran up to me.

"Hey, messenger!" he called. At his side were several children, younger than me but by no more than a year or so.

"It's just Andy. Joseph, right? How can I help you?"

"Well, seeing how you finished your business with the village elder, can you tell us what the witch-lords are like? You said you've met Lord Hyunmu. What kind of man is he?"

"He's probably like Martin the Smith. I bet he's huge with big, broad shoulders from pounding the forge all day," another boy chimed in.

"No way, I bet he's like Sarah, she's the village healer," another, a girl with freckles and a dimpled smile, informed me. "The Great Turtle's also the lord of medicines, remember?"

The children began to bicker about what I was like… while I was standing right here… It was the awkward cherry to cap the awkward sundae that was today. A part of me wanted to leave; there wasn't any need to engage them.

'You cannot run forever,' Wolyo growled in my mind. I could almost imagine his phantasmal fangs nipping at my heels, urging me forward.

'You wished to turn their worship to something productive,' Farya added.

'Yeah, but… It feels so weird talking about myself. I'm not some grandiose figure out of a storybook.'

'Then don't.'

It took a moment for me to understand what she meant. Then I held out a hand to silence the children. "Alright, you want a story? Then fine, here's a story about Hyunmu and how he came about his companions."

"He has companions?" the second boy asked. "Are those the other witch-lords?"

"Kind of. No, I'm talking about the Wolf and the Lamb. Now, pay attention: Once, long ago, when the world was young and gods walked among men-"

"-But they do that already. Aren't the witch-lords gods?"

"Shut up, Carl."

"Make me, Rachel."

"They're avatars," I said quickly, forestalling the argument. It was true, in a manner of speaking. Shards may as well be gods to these people, and parahumans were indeed avatars of their Shards. "They're given powers by a greater existence."

"Woah…"

"Yes, now where was I… Right. When the world was young, gods walked among men. All of existence followed the cycle of life and death, all save one. For you see, there was a man, a man whose job it was to greet everyone when their time had come. He was the guide who would take them across the River of Souls and to the Spirit Realm, so that they might begin the cycle anew. This man, Death, was the loneliest of all. He would greet everyone. Good men, bad men, young men, old men, all would come to him in time."

"So why was he lonely?" Joseph questioned.

"Because he had to bid farewell to them all," I told him. As I spoke, I could feel a small flicker of the Kindred's power well up from within. It left my voice with the slightest of cadences, a haunting echo that captivated them and rooted them by their feet. Their very souls resonated with my words, for Death spoke through me. "None could stay, for all souls must continue the cycle. All things must come to an end, and it was this man's duty to see that course through."

"That's sad," Rachel said. "I don't like sad stories."

I smiled. The Lamb and the Wolf spoke within me, putting words to their legend. It was a story I'd read many times before, but all the more impactful now that they were the ones whispering the words.

"It's not so bad. The man was lonely and he could never have a friend. So, he decided to make one for himself. He took his ax, and split himself in two." That drew an audible gasp from them. "Yes, if he must be alone, then perhaps he could be two, and he would not be alone anymore."

"But wouldn't he die?"

"He's Death. He cannot die. And so that is how the Kindred came to be. They are called the Lamb and the Wolf, the Eternal Hunters who will one day guide all souls to the next life. The Wolf, with his fangs, seeks out all who flee from death, all who fear the inevitable. He tears them limb from limb, until they have no choice but to confront the end.

"And the Lamb? She is the gentler of the two. With soundless steps and her bow in hand, she grants a swift end to all who face their demise with acceptance. She shows that though death is certainly scary, it is also a rest from toil and a relief from pain."

Joseph nodded. "Ma said that too. When West, my dog, died, she said that everything dies so there's no use stressing about it. West isn't suffering no more."

"That's right. Everything will end one day. The Kindred don't make judgments about the way you've lived, but they do demand that all meet their end in one way or another."

"So how did they meet the Great Turtle?"

I paused. That certainly wasn't part of the Kindred's lore. "Well, they were wanderers for many millennia."

"What's a millennia?"

"Many thousands of years," I corrected myself. They were still children, small words. "They sought all whose time had come. But even though they had one another and were no longer lonely, they were faced with a new problem: They were curious. For you see, humans change over time. Traditions change slightly each generation. Brilliant men create new inventions, new ways of doing things that are easier and more convenient. Death may be unchanging, but life? Life is a thing that is ever in motion.

"So, one day, the Lamb and the Wolf saw the Turtle. He was but a boy then, young even by the standards of men. But he was filled with the desire to make things. There was a great, winged creature called the Simurgh that attacked his home."

"Not the Winter Eagle?"

"No, not her. Her name is Anivia and she is someone different, a friend. Anyway, Hyunmu made something that could bridge the gap between life and death. He simply called it the Mask, an invitation to the Kindred. 'Come fight with me,' he said. 'Help me chase the Simurgh away. Death is mighty. None can escape the Kindred for long.'

"So, the Kindred, curious at the workmanship of this child, agreed. They offered him their power and drove her away. But Hyunmu was injured. Life and death mixed like oil and water and he was unable to house the Kindred. So, he fell into a deep slumber."

"And then what happened?"

"What do you mean what happened?" I asked with faux cluelessness. "He woke up. I hear he's got a bone to pick with the Simurgh now."

"The Simurgh isn't dead?"

"No, no she is not. But that's okay. No one can run from the Kindred forever. She's Marked now. And one day, the Eternal Hunters will claim her also."

"Woah…"

One of the boys looked at me with a troubled expression. "So what's the point? Doesn't that mean there isn't any point to living because the Kindred will find us anyway?"

"No, why would you think that?" I asked. I realized then that I was woefully unprepared for this. How does one explain the meaning of life to children? Or death? I took a deep breath and decided to be as honest as I could. "Look, some will say that because the Kindred will find you no matter what, you should live good lives so that you can give a good accounting of your deeds."

"Yeah?"

"Yup. And others will say that because we don't have forever, the time we have left is all the more precious. Like… Like if you had a hundred pieces of candy, you wouldn't mind giving one away, but if you only had one piece of candy, you wouldn't want to give it away anymore, right? Because you only have one and so it's precious."

"Uhuh… Time is like candy. If it's gone, you can't get it back."

"Right. Personally? I think that you should find something you're passionate about, something you love. Then, make it your dream. Work at it and master it, be happy in the things you create. I won't tell you that life has some greater meaning, I'm not sure myself, but I think that not knowing is okay. Sometimes, finding little pleasures in our daily lives can be meaning enough. Does that make sense?"

"Umm… I think so…"

"Good, because I'm really not the philosophical sort," I said.

"What's that mean?"

"It means…" I trailed off. Isolde was in my hand. I spun it on my finger. With each revolution, Isolde grew bigger and bigger. Until finally, I plunged the now greatsword-sized pair of scissors into the ground. A tower of mist burst upwards, shrouding me from view. By the time the Hallowed Mist cleared, I was long gone, nothing but my voice left on the wind. "... that I'm really not good at teaching children."

Author's Note

This section may or may not be interesting. Still, I had a lot of fun introducing a developing culture and it felt a long time coming. Andy had other things to do, and still does, but I wanted to open up Babylon and seed a few plot hooks here, especially now that Riley's on the crew.

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.